


The Death of Her

by aHostileRainbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Study, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aHostileRainbow/pseuds/aHostileRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sibyll stared into another china cup, sighed – and Harry Potter died, again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of Her

Sibyll stared into another china cup and sighed. A little blonde girl ran through the streets before being gunned down by a helmeted soldier – a redheaded woman cried as she said, 'I do' – and Harry Potter died,  _again_. She must have watched that boy die at least a hundred different ways in a hundred different timelines. It was, quite frankly, getting old.

She tried to warn him – she tried to warn all of them. But did anyone listen to Sibyll Trelawney? No. She knew they thought her a fraud and a laughingstock, but knew just as well that their opinion of her wouldn't change their reaction. Even if she were respected, it was in the nature of people to fall back on denial in the face of death.

That understanding didn't make it easier.

By Potter's fifth year she had turned to sherry in hopes of dulling her Sight just the slightest bit. Just enough that she could sit through even one class with the boy without watching him die again. Sibyll had realized by then that Harry Potter must be one of Fate's Chosen, the only reason she would See him so often.

Where she looked at Minerva McGonagall and Saw a dozen streaks of red hitting her chest, looked at little Neville Longbottom and Saw him poised with a shining sword – she looked at Harry Potter and all she Saw, over and over, was him dying.

He even appeared in her visions when he was hundreds of miles away. She Saw him all summer, dying in a haze of spellfire, beaten to death by a Muggle built like a whale, killed on his knees at the Dark Lord's feet, beheaded by order of the Ministry of Magic, or even, on one memorable occasion, dying peacefully in his sleep in his right-hand rooms in the Dark Lord's castle.

The boy was a catalyst and he didn't even realize it.

While most people's choices had small effects only on their immediate circumstances, Harry Potter's every decision, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, changed the course of history. It was mad and it was driving  _her_  mad.

A cough brought Sibyll out of her brooding and she could have cried when she looked up to see a sixth-year Harry Potter stood in front of her desk. Immediately, the visions swamped her and uncaring of the impression she was making, Sibyll took a good pull of her trusty bottle of sherry. The haze allowed her about a minute's peace, so quickly she demanded of the boy, "What, Mr. Potter?"

He seemed a little thrown off, by her curtness or open alcoholism she couldn't say. "I've got a note from the Headmaster, Professor, asking me up to his office right now. If you'd excuse me…?" He trailed off uncertainly and Sibyll could have laughed, a tad hysterically.

Instead, she waved him off and took another pull as her eyes followed him out the door against her will. A spell like purple-lightning burned him alive. She shook her head.

Harry Potter would be the death of her.


End file.
